


Any Way You Want It

by marshmallowdeanie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Castiel, HS AU, HS!AU, Homophobic characters, Light Angst, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Top Dean, Twink Castiel, a few gay slurs, also country music, and a lot of classic rock, cas has a tramp stamp and wears daisy dukes, cas is the preacher's son, eventually explicit sex, not graphic, reckless teenagers, sassy!Sam, some emotional/physical abuse in cas's first relationship, the ash/cas is implied at the beginning but nothing explicit there, this is about dean and cas, warning: hicks and hick-shaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowdeanie/pseuds/marshmallowdeanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester moves from the city to a small town in Kansas and he pretty much hates it at first. But then he meets the preacher's teenage son, Castiel, and suburbia's not so bad anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean for this to be in multiple parts, but it just kinda happened that way.It was supposed to be PWP. I guess I had more in me than I expected. Hope you enjoy.

Dean taps his fingers against the leather-bound steering wheel of his car to the song that's blasting out of his stereo. It's Journey's _Any Way You Want It_. A classic. Dean raises his hand to wipe some sweat from his forehead. It's fucking hot. It's damn hot for May, christ. Dean really wants a cold iced tea right now--and he really _doesn't_ want to be sitting in the parking lot of the high school. He slides his sunglasses up off of his eyes to rest on his head and peers across the cab out of the window. There's no one around, but he's waiting for Sammy.

He's able to make out the shrill, distinct ringing of the final bell. He smiles a little, mostly in relief. He doesn't miss that sound. 

 

Within moments, kids are spilling out of every door of the school, clamoring and chattering loudly. Dean searches for his little brother. Sammy is a junior this fall.

 

Dean's car is already running when he spots Sammy heading down the front sidewalk of the school. He's walking with two boys and a girl. Leave it to Sam to make friends on his first day of school in a new town. They'd just moved here--to Lazarus, Kansas. It's basically a small town like you see in horror movies where there aren't enough people around to see you get murdered by a psycho killer, but there are neighbors up your ass any other time to get in your business. Dean doesn't want to admit he might have a personal vendetta for Lazarus, but he kind of does. After moving from Dallas, Texas, where the most grass he took in at any given moment was a more luxurious tree lawn, Lazarus seems like hillbilly haven and Dean's stuck right on Wisteria lane.

Sam catches sight of Dean's car--a 1967 Chevy Impala, it stands out in a parking lot full of less shiny Grand Ams and pick-up trucks. He starts towards the car and when Sam is close enough to start making a face at him through the windshield, Dean lifts his arms and returns an amused look. Over the radio, which has since gone from Journey to The Clash, Sam grumbles, "Turn the music down, Dean!"

"Why, Sammy?! Don't be a wet blanket. Get in," Dean says with a grin. Sam shakes his head and swings the door open. Some of the kids walking past on the sidewalk snort at either Sam or Dean, Dean isn't entirely sure.

"People are staring, asshat," Sam grumps, as Dean concedes to turn the radio down a little. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think embarrassing Sam was fun.

"Saw your new girlfriend. She doesn't look like a geek like you. I guess you had a good day, huh," Dean says with an elbow jab that misses Sam's ribs. Sam rolls his eyes, his signature move.

"She's not my girlfriend, Dean. Her name is Jess. She's a senior, anyway," Sam retorts defensively. Dean raises his eyebrows as he peels out of the parking lot. There's basically one long stretch of road surrounded by awful, smelly, cow fields separating the school from the rest of the sordid town of Lazarus. Dean can't even believe it's paved. He half expected to see a tractor on his bumper on the way over.

The sound of a car horn behind him makes Dean check his mirrors. It's some guy in a god-awful blue 90's Ford truck. Music is blaring from the truck, getting louder as it approaches. And the stereo sounds god-awful, all treble. And some kid's hanging out the passenger side window, not to mention the three others in the truck's bed all howling like fucking hyenas. 

"What the hell?" Dean remarks, his brow furrowing as he steps on the gas. The truck is coming up pretty fast behind him.

"Crap. I think it's Ash and his gang of jerks," Sam pipes up, turning around in his seat to squint out the back window of Dean's car.

The truck catches up to Dean, who's over the speed limit of 35 already, doing 60, so obviously the guy in the truck is moving pretty fast. The kids in the truck are singing loudly and badly. It sounds like dying cats or something. Jesus.

"What's this guy's problem?!" Dean shouts over the sound of their engines roaring past corn stalks. The flaky blue truck full of people moves into the opposing lane and Dean laid on his horn as it came up alongside of him.

"What are you, fuckin' insane?!" he bellows out the window, waving one arm as Sam just sits rigid in his seat.

The guy in the driver's side has a mullet and a muscle shirt on, and he tipped his cowboy hat at Dean with a toothy grin, exposing one gold capped tooth. This is just about one of the most disgusting hillbillies Dean thinks he's ever seen, only adding to Dean's disgust by using his tongue to flick a wad of chew out his window toward Dean. On top of that, the country pop music pouring out of the blue truck is drowning Dean's Van Halen, so he cranks his stereo and steps on the gas. The kid in the passenger side pops up out of the window again and Dean meet gazes with him. The two songs playing in unison is some awful cacophony, but the young boy looks directly at Dean and mouths some of the lyrics from _Jump_ , which yeah, is what Dean's playing. His dark, almost black, hair is blowing in the wind generated by the truck's speed, dancing across his tanned forehead. In between the boy's lips, the cherry end of a joint blinks at Dean, and the boy puckers them, his sharp jawline jutting out obscenely, to blow smoke into the air like exhaust. He waggles his eyebrows at Dean and laughs a laugh that blows away with his smoke in the wind. Sweat glistens on his neck in the sun. Dean stares, exasperated, as the boy throws him a kiss and makes a show of grabbing his own crotch, causing the truck bed full of more kids to cackle. This is when the boy looks away from Dean and starts riling up his cronies back in the bed of the truck instead, doing some whoops and fist pumps.

Dean tore his gaze away and laid on the horn. "Crazy son of a bitch!" he shouted as the truck finally overtook Dean and barreled past, back over into the same lane, only to speed up again and leave Dean's Impala in the dust.

"You know those assholes?!" Dean asks, punching the eject on his stereo. His hand-burned CD popped out ad he tossed it on the dash. Sam shifts in his seat and huffs.

"Yeah, the driver's Ash. He's like twenty. He only hangs around the high school because he's a _loser_. He nearly ran me over this morning in his stupid truck," Sam replies hesitantly. Dean didn't take well to bullies. Sam didn't want his brother to get involved.

"Oh yeah? I have half a mind to kick his redneck ass so hard he'll--"

"Dean, no. I can handle it. He was just messing around, trying to act cool," Sam said, an aggravated note in his tone. Dean blew some air out of his nose and turned onto their street. He got the message. Dean had dropped out three years ago as a senior, but he got his GED and worked on cars now. In fact, he was gonna be working in Uncle Bobby's garage here in Lazarus now. 

"Listen, Sam, I know you don't want me steppin' all over your business, but I want you to let me know if this Ash guy keeps bothering you," Dean told Sam seriously. He cut the wheel to park when he was in front of their house.

"I don't need any help. I'd let you know if I did. It's not a big deal," Sam retorts with a shrug, grabbing the strap of is backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Not a big deal? That son'ova'bitch almost side-swiped me, Sam," Dean fumed, defusing only when he remembered the boy who'd been hanging out of the passenger side of Ash's truck. His smile, something like a sparkle--Dean swore he hadn't imagined it--in his eye and a loud, carefree laugh as he tossed his head back. A tendril of something...something, curled in Dean's belly.

"But he didn't. He was just messing around," Sam said, already halfway up to the house. Dean wanted to get inside, too. It was too damn hot outside. But Dean wanted to ask Sam about the boy. Just to know his name. Just.

"Who was the kid dangling like an idiot out the window?" Dean asks, the viciousness gone from his voice now. He tries to sound concerned.

"Oh, _Castiel_. Apparently his dad's the big important preacher in town. Jess told me he's Ash's partner in crime, among other things, and apparently he'll do anything to make people forget he's the preacher's son," Sam said with an air of annoyance.

"Gross. You mean they--?" Dean, asks, not really sure why it bothers him. He totally pegged Castiel to be a fairy. He tries his best to remain only casually interested.

"Well, it's hard to believe in this place, but yeah, I guess so. Jess said he gets around a lot. She only knows because gossip spreads fast around here. She just moved here last July,"

"Oh. Nice," he scoffs, following Sam up onto the porch and then straight into the kitchen.

"Hey, Sammy. How was school?" a voice, their mother, asks from the stove. Dean could smell lunch and his stomach grumbled, making him forget all about asshole Joe Dirt and his flirty little jerk boyfriend. Dean swiped the wooden spoon from his mother's hand and scooped some of the cheese-covered noodles out of the pot. Homemade macaroni and cheese. God, he loved his mom's cooking.

"Uh ah--no. _You_ git outta here. You just made yourself food before you left. This is Sammy's lunch," she said, giving a smack to Dean's hand when he went for the second spoonful. Dean grumbled his protest, but shuffled to the fridge for the pitcher of iced tea he so desperately craved. Sam sat down at the kitchen table and dropped his backpack.

"School was okay. The teachers seem a little stuffy. But I made some friends," Sam said to his mother, who nodded approvingly as she set a bowl down in front of Sam

"You know I'm sorry about uprooting you boys from Dallas. Lazarus is a nice town, according to Uncle Bobby, but I know you had your friends back there already," she spoke sympathetically, giving Sam's shaggy hair a tousle. Sam pushed his hair out of his face and stuck his spoon into the bowl of macaroni and cheese.

"It's okay. I'll get over it, Mom," Sam replies. Dean took a seat beside his brother, across from his mother, and set his glass of tea down.

"I won't. I think I'll die of boredom in this suburbia hellhole," Dean quipped.

"Well, luckily, Dean, that's why you start working tomorrow," his mother stated matter-of-factly. 

Dean just rolled his eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby's garage was apparently the most trusted garage (maybe the ONLY garage) in the whole town of Lazarus. Once Bobby had shown Dean around, he put him straight to work. And people were in and out seemingly constant. Dean hadn't seen Uncle Bobby since he was maybe ten, which was a while ago, but he liked the guy. And they both loved cars, so that gave them something to talk about while they were jacking up a car with a blown transmission or replacing a tail light. Dean was scheduled at the garage every weekday from ten A.M. to six P.M. This meant that Sam had to either catch the bus or walk home, or find a ride. Sam was sixteen years old, though, so it was high time Dean stopped worrying about him so much. He had to put that Ash guy out of his mind. Sam would be fine. 

 

Sam was walking home Thursday afternoon, having forgot his homework in his locker, he'd missed the bus and his friends who had cars were already gone. He didn't mind so much. It was just corn fields and cows until you reached the gas station, and then his street was only two blocks into town. It wasn't too hot today, either.

Sam could hear a car approaching from behind him, but he didn't really give it any thought. That was, until he heard someone yelling, "Winchester! Ay, Winchester!" He kept walking, recognizing it to be the voice of Anna Milton, a grade-A bitch from Sam's Algebra II class. She hung out with Castiel and some other people Sam didn't know very well. Sam had seen Anna giving some freshman girls a hard time just the other day. He didn't like her much.

Sam succeeded in ignoring Anna until her car was riding right alongside him as he walked. "It's Sam Winchester, right? I'm Anna. I got a question for you. Wanna ride?"

He cast her a skeptical look, wondering why she would offer him a ride in the first place. They never talked in school. Sitting next to Anna, Sam noticed, was Castiel in the passenger seat. He flicked a cigarette out the window, meriting a disdainful look from Sam.

"What's the question?" Sam asked in a long-suffering way, stopping beside the idling car warily.

"Get in and I'll tell you," she said with a coy smile. Anna was a pretty girl. But that didn't excuse her attitude.

Sam gave in and climbed into the backseat of Anna's car. It was awkward for about two minutes as they drove, and then Castiel turned around in his seat. 

"I'm Cas. Welcome to Lazarus, Sam," Castiel said, looking strangely eager.

"Uh, thanks," Sam replied, a little weirded out. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his tennis shoes.

"So, we picked you up because I wanted to ask you...who's your older brother? I mean, what's his name?" Anna asked, peering excitedly in her rearview to catch Sam's eye. Sam looked surprised.

"My older brother? He doesn't go to Presley. His name is Dean, why?"

" _Dean,"_ Castiel seemed to exhale delightedly, and Anna exchanged a look with him followed by a giggle. Sam was so confused. Why would they ask about Dean? Anna had never seen him before and Castiel...the last and only time Castiel had seen Dean was when Ash almost ran his car off the road.

"Just wondering. We've been hearing some rumors. We know you just moved here last week and that your brother doesn't go to school. How old is he?" Anna asked. Sam was starting to get the feeling that Anna might have some type of crush on his brother.

"Anna, my brother is 23," Sam said, hoping to deter her. Anna was only a junior like himself, after all. 

"Oh, wow. Jo Harvelle told me he works at Singer's Auto Repair shop, is that true?" Anna implored, looking at Castiel rather than at Sam. What was she, a newspaper journalist?!

Sam didn't want to offend Anna since she did offer him a ride, but these questions were getting a bit invasive. Should he even continue answering them? Dean wouldn't want some high school girl knowing all about his business.

"Who's Jo? How does she know?" Sam asked, his nose wrinkling.

"She's Bobby Singer's neice. Or something. I don't know, she's a freshman who Castiel knows and her mom or whatever said that Bobby Singer hired a new mechanic who _just_ moved here, and since _you_ just moved here, _we_ figured it was--"

"Jesus, Anna-- _okay_. Are you writing a book? Yeah, Dean just started there. I don't really think he's interested, though, no offense," Sam stated. He clenched his teeth through the awkward silence.

After a few beats, Anna slowed down and Castiel spoke.

"Which street's yours?"

"Ah, right here. Thanks for the ride," Sam sighed, offering Anna a gentle smile. She waved and pulled away once Sam was off the road.

 

"Mom--are you really making us go to church?" Dean groaned, struggling with his tie as his mother wrestled it from him and tied it herself. 

"Just this once, I promise. I just want us to make an appearance in the community. Apparently people are really into Sunday church around here. Besides, it won't kill you," she explained and then pursed her lips.

Dean lamented as his mother insisted she drive them in her station wagon. He'd wanted to take his own car, but there was no arguing with his mother. She was stubborn, just like Dean. Dean felt uncomfortable in his black slacks and white button-down with his father's old, tacky tie on. The pants were itchy and the shoes he was wearing were the same ones he'd worn to his Aunt Betty's wedding and they still weren't broken in, so they pinched when he walked.

Dean hates church. It's always boring enough to put him to sleep. Sam managed not to complain yet, _somehow_ , but Dean knows he hates church, too.

When they pull up in front of the church and roll slowly through the parking lot, searching for an empty space hopelessly, Dean puffs out some air.

"You were right about people being super into this, Ma," Dean mutters with a small scoff. The parking lot is jam-packed with cars and if they'd come any later, they'd have been standing in the back. Luckily, they got to sit down in a pew towards the back. Dean is amazed--it looked like the entire town condensed itself into this small chapel.

The church smells like old people and incense, the kind that you see seeping out of an old thurible. Dean's nose crinkles, feeling the slightest bout of nausea. There are so many people, and the air conditioning sytem must be a hundred-year-old piece of junk, because sweat is already rolling down Dean's back. He wants nothing more than to bail right that instant. But he wants to at least humor his mom.

 

Dean followed along, miming what everyone else did, standing during songs and kneeling during prayers. He still felt very awkward. Everyone was so quiet when they prayed, and Dean just closed his eyes and thought about nothing. It was strange. He'd never really prayed for _real_ before, and he guessed he wasn't about to start now. He wasn't sure how, in all reality. He'd thought about God a lot when his dad died. Dean wasn't sure he understood why so many people had so much faith in religion. It was just a made up fairy tale. Just another reason to hate church.

Dean's eyes wandered. He couldn't pay attention. The coffee he'd had before leaving the house was starting to kick in. He glances over at Sam from the corner of his eye. Sam seems to be paying attention, his hands folded politely in his lap. Dean feels a little ashamed to be looking anywhere but the alter, but he can't fake his interest.

During one of the preacher's readings, Dean notices a pair of eyes on him. He looks a few pews up to his right and sees Castiel--the boy from Ash's truck window--looking at him. Castiel looks away quickly when Dean notices him. Dean's cheeks fill with rushing blood and he tugs on his collar a bit. Castiel's wild hair is combed neatly into shape and he has a blue necktie on, in contrast to the last time Dean had seen him, wearing an orange tank top and some cut-off jean shorts, his hair waving freely in the wind. Castiel doesn't look back at Dean for the remainder of the service.

Afterward, Dean stretches his legs and yawns, then follows his mother and brother outside. He feels like he'd been baking in a hot attic the entire service. Instead of heading to the car, though, Dean's mother leads the boys towards the crowd surrounding the doors. People bump past and Dean is quickly annoyed. 

Dean is about to beg his mother to _let's go, please_ until a woman approaches them.

"Hi, you must be Bobby Singer's sister in law! I'm Pam, Bobby's neighbor. He told me he had family coming up from the Lone Star state!" this blonde-haired woman exclaims. Her shade of lipstick is putrid and she's smiling too much.

"Yeah, hi, Mary Winchester. Nice to meet you. I just wanted to introduce myself to a few people," she responds politely, then yanks Dean and Sam forward. "These are my boys, Dean and Sam. Sam goes to Presley High and Dean works at Bobby's garage,"

"How wonderful! Nice to see such handsome, grown up, boys taking an interest in their eternal souls. Too many teenagers in this town running amok, you know? Reverend Novak does a good sermon, though. He could put _anybody_ on the right track. In any case, welcome to Lazarus, Mary," Pam says, patting Mary's arm as she begins rounding up her own several small children. As some people clear away, and Dean's tolerance level dwindles dangerously, they are finally at the church's steps with the reverend.

"Hello, Reverend Novak. I'm Mary Winchester, these are my two sons, Dean and Sam. We just moved from Dallas and wanted to introduce ourselves. We're family of Bobby Singer's," she smiles properly, shaking the reverend's hand. It is then that Dean remembers--this is Castiel's father. Dean bites his tongue with amusement. How ironic that the son of a preacher is running around causing trouble! And that the pure little preacher's kid is also probably gay. It's so rich. Dean wonders if the reverend knows, and chuckles just to think of it. This guy was a real live bible banger. Dean is able to tell from his demeanor.

"Welcome to Lazarus! How are you and your boys liking it so far...?" the reverend asks Dean's mother, but Dean is too distracted by Castiel approaching from his peripheral vision to hear her answer.

Dean looks at him as he takes a spot standing beside his father. Castiel's tie is loosened slightly now. One of the buttons on his shirt is undone, and his collar barely hides a blooming, dark purple hickey. Dean feels like shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh! This is _my_ son, Castiel," the reverend introduces, giving Castiel's shoulder a squeeze. Castiel smiles, looking directly at Dean for longer than necessary, Dean deduces. Then he smiles at Mary. "Pleased to meet you... _and_ your sons. I know Sam from school," 

Small talk that Dean chooses not to participate in ensues. Dean takes the opportunity to dissect Castiel's features one by one. Most striking, by far, are his sapphire blue eyes. Dean has never seen blue eyes like that before. They almost make his head spin. Castiel's body is long and lithe, yet shorter than Dean. Dean tries to picture Castiel's thighs bare, like they were in the jean shorts he'd had on the last time Dean saw him. Castiel's hair is longer than Dean's, like he'd skipped a few haircuts. Dean kept his own hair buzzed because he didn't like it on his neck in the hot weather. Castiel's hair moves in the breeze. It looks soft. Dean's mouth feels dry and he's woozy by the time he feels his mother dragging him away. Castiel meets his gaze a single time more with a deviant glint that makes Dean almost shudder. How could this kid affect Dean that easily? He clears his throat. They walk back to the car.

"Can we never go to church again?" Dean stammers, unabashedly exhausted. He wipes a line of sweat from his brow and rubs it off onto his pants.

"No, I won't force you," his mother retorts, sighing. 

"Castiel is a little weird, huh? He kept giving you these weird looks--and get this, the other day, him and he and Anna gave me a ride and kept asking me a bunch of stuff about you," Sam mentions with a quizzical look and a snort.

"They did? L-Like what did he want to know?" Dean blurts out, a blush creeping up his neck. He works the knot out of his tie, desperate to air out his neck and chest. He blames the heat, but he knows Castiel is partially the problem for his nervous sweating.

"I don't know. Your name and where you work and stuff. I thought it was weird," Sam shrugs. Dean didn't know what to make of it. Castiel had actually been asking about him? Why? They didn't know eachother, apart from the day Ash almost crashed into his car.

"Oh. That's...weird," Dean replies, finally.

 

On Monday, it's slow at the garage. Dean and Bobby already played five rounds of checkers, and now, Bobby is doing some paperwork while Dean watches the shop. A cloud of dust rises up from the incline that leads to the garage, a clue that somebody is driving up. Dean grabs a rag to wipe his oily hands--the guy who'd dropped off his Cavalier for inspection earlier was probably here to get it.

Except it isn't him. It is an old, loud, blue pickup, with deer antlers mounted on the hood. _Great_ , Dean thinks.

Ash is in the driver's seat and Castiel is in the passenger's side. Dean hadn't realized it was already after two P.M.

Ash crushes a white Yuengling can in his fist and tosses it into Castiel's lap. An argument that is silent for Dean, who's across the lot, unfolds, and Ash climbs out of the truck's cab. When he sees Dean leaning against an air pump, he scoffs. "Oh, it's _you_. The muscle car guy I passed on the main drag. I need my muffler put back on. Somebody tore it off--you wouldn't happen to know nothin' about it, wouldja?" 

Dean raises a eyebrow and shakes his head. "It could have _fell_ off, way you work that damn piece of shit,"

Ash spits his tobacco in the dirt, dangerously close to Dean's feet. Anger threatened to take hold in Dean's stomach, but he pushed it down.

"Yeah, no. Somebody went and _ripped_ it off. I know it,"

"Whatever. Fill out the paperwork and I'll fix it for you," Dean retorts with irritation. He passes his clipboard to Ash and as the guy walks over to the front counter to fill out the form, Dean looks up to meet Castiel's gaze from the cab of the truck. He's smirking, and he lifts his arm to wave at Dean. Dean's face reddens significantly, but he can't help but to smile and return a wink, which Dean can tell brings a laugh from Castiel, even though he's was too far away to hear it. Castiel looks away from Dean and for a moment he's disappointed that their little moment is over, but Castiel is focused on something else. Dean folds his arms, watching Castiel crank down his window of the truck. And then suddenly _Smoke_ _On_ _The_ _Water_ is absolutely booming across the lot so loud that Bobby sticks his head out of his office door, wondering just what the hell is going on. Dean's face is burning, but there's a fire that's kicked up in his chest, too, and he's laughing lowly.

Ash spins around, dropping the clipboard, obviously startled, and Castiel is playing the air guitar from the truck's cab and beaming like he's won the prank lottery. Ash growls and scrambles across the parking lot toward his truck, berating Castiel as he approaches. Dean only hears clips of profanity over the loud music. He bobs his head to the song, grinning stupidly until Ash apparently gets through to Castiel by delivering a clean _slap!_ across his face, demanding he turn the radio down. Castiel looks miserable as he does so, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest.

Ash spits and starts walking back towards the garage with a constipated look on his face. He shoves a fresh wad of chew in between his teeth and bottom lip and mutters, " _Stupid_ _fag_ ," as he passes Dean. Dean frowns, brushing it off and glancing cautiously at Cas again, who's inspecting his spurned cheek in the mirror. Dean wants to say something, but he's not sure what, so he doesn't. He watches Castiel wipe his eyes a little.

 _It's not your business, Dean_.

Ash finishes the paperwork and goes to get the truck to put it in the garage. When he's in the driver's seat, it looks like Castiel tries to lean in and kiss Ash, but Ash rejects him with a violent shove. So Castiel sits back again and purses his lips tightly.

"Come on, Castiel, git out," Ash barks as he turns the engine off in the garage. Castiel glares at him and shoves the door open, jumping down out of the cab.

"You could _ask_ ," he spits back at Ash.

"It's _my_ truck. Don't tell me _what to do_ or _how to speak_ ," Ash snaps back, and the two of them start walking across the road towards the diner. Dean sighs watching Castiel go, but he doesn't look back.

 

It didn't take long for Dean to fix the muffler and call Ash to tell him it was ready. A part of him hoped he'd bring Castiel with him to get the truck.

"This that Ash kid's truck?" Bobby asks, gesturing towards it. Dean tries to scrub off some of the grease on his face in the side mirror of the truck. 

"Yup. He's a douchebag,"

"I know. God bless whoever yanked that muffler off. Wish I could charge him twice the cost," Bobby laughs bitterly.

"Why, what'd he do to you?" Dean inquires curiously.

" _Oh_ , he's the town drunk. Used to piss on people's lawns, shoot his damn guns off in his backyard. But what I hate him for is hitting my dog with his damn truck," Bobby grunts, giving the truck's front tire a swift but harmless kick.

"Jesus-- _really_?"

"Yeah. I should'a chained him up, but anyway Old Wilbur was too slow to move outta that raging alcoholic's way. Didn't deserve to go out that way," Bobby sighs, scratching his ear. He shrugs and sits down at his desk and Dean joins him. It's the end of the day. Dean cracks open a bottle of beer for himself and does the same for Bobby.

Light footsteps come from behind Bobby's car and then a body appears in the doorway suddenly. It's just Castiel. Dean's eyes follow the shape of his hips in his jeans and his cut-off muscle shirt. He shades the setting sun from his eyes with his hand and looks at the shirt. It's got the Tazmanian Devil on it. It makes Dean hide a grin.

"Ash sent me to get his truck," Castiel says, looking between Bobby and Dean respectively.

"Why didn't the damn nuisance come get it himself?" Bobby asks, not hiding his annoyance. Bobby takes a swig of his drink, and Castiel shifts his weight onto a hip, letting out a long sigh.

"He's drunk. Can't drive,"

Dean blinks and stands up to get the truck's key's from the hook on the wall behind Bobby. How could Castiel be friends--or whatever--with Ash if Ash is really this shitty? I mean, he'd hit Castiel earlier. And on top of that, he's too wasted to get his own truck, so Castiel had to walk over alone to get it for him? It doesn't seem right to Dean.

"Here ya go. Did he find out who took his muffler off? It really did look like somebody did it in spite," Dean asks casually, walking towards the truck with Castiel close behind.

Castiel smirks, "Well actually...it was me,"

"You? Shit--why?!" Dean asks in shock, a laugh escaping his chest.

"Because...I...heard you work here, and I wanted to see for myself. It was the best thing I could come up with. And I like messing around with Ash. He's a jerk," Castiel elaborates. Dean still didn't get it. Castiel wanted to see _him_?

"If Ash is such a jerk, why do you hang out with him? And why would you wanna see me?" Dean asks, his heart beating a little faster than usual.

Castiel takes a step closer to Dean, his eyes traveling down and then up. His eyelashes are so much longer close up. He licks his lips and says, "I don't know,"

Dean nods slowly, taking a step back but bumping into the side of the truck. The sun is shining on Castiel's face, bringing out his golden tan even more. Castiel doesn't have a farmers' tan like Ash. Dean cracks a smile, then shuffles out of the way.

"Well, the truck's all set to go. Next time go for something a little more _important_ , like the engine," Dean laughs. He really wants to say something smooth, but his mind is drawing a blank. Talking to girls is so easy. This...this is _not_.

"Thanks, Dean," Castiel replies genuinely, slinging the door open to climb up into the driver's seat. That's when Dean notices two little black, inked, angel wings peeking out of Castiel's jeans, right where the dimples above his ass sit. There's a cross in the center of them. Dean's stomach drops to his feet and he swallows hard, wiping his forehead with the oily rag in his hands.

"Anytime," Dean sputters in return, managing not to collapse.

Castiel starts the truck's engine and revs it a little. When the radio comes on, he switches from the country music station to the only classic rock radio station Dean has had on since he'd moved here. He grins and turns the radio up.

" _So_ you like Deep Purple, Van Halen, and now Judas Priest, huh?" Dean asks with both eyebrows raised. "Thought you were a good, Christian, country boy?"

Castiel shakes his head and bites his lip coyly. "Cowboys like a little rock n roll, too,"

Dean laughs gently at him. Castiel looks like a little slice of heaven perched up in the truck's seat. Dean wishes he could take a picture in his mind.

"Hey, do you wanna go for a drive later?" Castiel asks, raising his voice so Dean would hear him over the thundering engine.

"I could pick you up around eight if you want," Dean offers, his chest tightening. He thinks about Ash.

" _Hell_ yes, but I'm picking you up," Castiel chirps, then shifts into drive, slamming on the gas pedal while Dean folds his arms, laughing at how tiny Castiel looks driving away in such a big truck.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean puts on a clean white t-shirt and throws his jeans in the washer when he gets home from work. After dinner, he has a few hours before he goes out with Cas, so he sits in the living room helping his mother unpack and tries to forget the two feathery black wings on Castiel's lower back that are burned into his brain.

Dean reaches into a box and pulls out a few framed photos. One is a Christmas photo from when Sam and Dean were still little, Sam maybe three years old. It makes Dean smile. He sets it up on the mantle above the fire place and looks at it for a moment longer, his eyes falling on his father. He was smiling, if half-heartedly. The picture was taken probably right before things started getting bad. Dean starts thinking a lot then. About his dad. And church. And sin.

He glances at his mom, who's dusting off a box and pulling the cardboard flaps open one by one. He's not sure if he should ask her, but he needs to know.

"Mom...did dad ever...hit you, when he was...? I mean before you guys split," Dean asks, swallowing a lump in his throat. He starts feeling a little sick, thinking back to earlier that day when Ash had slapped Castiel across the face. Mary stops what she's doing, which was setting a shade straight on a lamp, and puts her hands on her hips.

"God-- _no_ , Dean. What would make you _ask_ _that_?" The air is thick in the living room. She's not angry, just very, very surprised and a little concerned.

"I'm sorry. It just, I just started thinking. Yanno. Being drunk _all_ the time. I was always too scared to come downstairs when you guys fought, so I don't know," Dean admits, feeling guilty and rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn't like making his mother upset for any reason. She's always been there for Dean. She helped him get his GED.

Mary takes a few steps toward Dean, giving him a deeply sympathetic look. "Sweetie, no. Your father might have been an angry drunk, but he loved us. He'd never think of hitting me. I left him because he refused to get any help for himself."

Dean nods solemnly and stares at his mother. "Do you think...you made the right choice?" His voice wavered a bit. He hasn't talked about his father in months. Hasn't even brought him up. And Sam certainly never did. Mary is silent for a little bit, going back to the box she'd been unpacking before.

"Yeah. I used to wonder that, when he started to get worse. But it wasn't up to me anymore. Your father was a grown man. I couldn't save him. He had to save himself. And that's what did him in. He didn't want to help himself."

Dean swallows thickly again and takes a clock out of the box to set it on the mantle. "It's okay, mom. I understand. I just thought I should ask."

Mary smiles feebly at Dean and gives his shoulder a squeeze, then pats his back, letting Dean know it's alright. She's not upset. "I don't mind, honey," She brushes some dust off of Dean's sleeve and sighs comfortably, the tension gone. "You have plans tonight?"

Dean smiles crookedly. "Yeah. I think I'm just going for a drive with a friend."

"That's good that you're getting to know people. I was afraid you and Sam would really hate it here," Mary says with a tone of relief in her voice. She brushes a flyaway of blonde hair off of her temple and behind her ear.

"Nah, it's alright," Dean says with a short laugh. It hits him that he's _really_ going to spend time with Castiel. His belly flip-flops. Dean's caught in a trance as he continues helping to unpack the living room.

 

Dean decides not to shave in hopes it will make him look a bit more mature. He tucks the front of his t-shirt behind his belt buckle and gives his hair a moment of attention before going to sit on the front porch. It's the perfect temperature outside now that the sun's gone and taken the heat with it. Dean looks down at his father's old boots that are on his feet. Dean would never in his right mind buy cowboy boots, but his father was a true Texan. He'd worn these all the time. Dean thought Castiel might get a kick out them.

Dean is confused and almost alarmed when he hears Ash's truck. For a moment, he thinks that Ash has figured out Dean is going out with Castiel _somehow_ and wants to come and duke it out here on the front lawn. But when the ugly truck halts in front of Dean's driveway and honks it's obnoxious horn, it's only Castiel.

"Hey, Texas. You comin'?" Castiel calls, reaching across the truck's cab to push the door of the passenger side open for Dean. Dean jogs across his yard and looks up at Castiel in the truck, his mouth agape.

"Really? In Ash's truck? I don't really wanna start trouble with your friend," Dean tells him truthfully, looking up into the cab ambivalently.

Castiel rolls his eyes, and even in the dark Dean is able to see him smirking. "Don't be a chicken. He'll be drunk the rest of the night. He's not gonna know. I take his stupid truck all the time. My daddy won't let me get my license, or my own car,"

Dean reluctantly swings up into the passenger side of the truck. He thinks this is the most unbelievable circumstance he could have come up with. He'd been assuming Castiel had his own car. Not Ash's fucking _truck_.

"Right. Does your father even know you're out?" Dean snorts, slamming his door. Castiel presses on the gas and they're jerking forward down the street.

"No. My curfew is supposed to be nine, but luckily by brother Gabriel covers for me when I sneak out," Castiel says as he puts the radio on for background noise.

"And how old are you again? You go to Presley, right? _Please_ tell me you're a senior," Dean says, breathing out some hot air. Castiel has a tight green t-shirt on with the sleeves rolled and, from what Dean can tell, those cut-off jean shorts.

Castiel chortles and responds, " _Yeah_ , I'm a senior. I'm seventeen, but I'll be eighteen before graduation next month. I heard you're twenty-three. Ash is only twenty. You've got your life together, huh,"

Dean shifts in his seat. Fuck. _Seventeen_? He suddenly feels like an old man. He wonders if he shouldn't jump out of the truck right now and abort the mission. But Castiel is so fucking attractive. He's so vibrant and lively and _sweet_. Dean can't bring himself to care enough about his age.

"Uh, I guess so. If you call working at a garage and living with my mom 'together', then sure," Dean replies with a snort.

Castiel glances over at Dean when they're stopped at the red light beside the gas station, close to the road that goes out of town. He smiles and looks Dean up an down, making Dean blush and squirm a little. Castiel's eyes glitter. But there's something on his far cheek, a dark spot. It's not a shadow. Dean only sees it for a moment, before Castiel looks ahead again.

"You'll get your own place soon, though, mm? I like your mom, anyway, she's _cool_...I bet she doesn't care that you get hot for dick," Castiel says with a small smirk.

Dean coughs and sputters, "Uh, yeah, _what_?" They pull onto the long road that leads toward the school. Corn fields come out to the road, almost encroaching it. The windows are down in the truck. Castiel drives fast and laughs with abandon. Dean is holding onto his seat, but he doesn't want to tell Castiel to slow down. He's having too much fun driving like a maniac. He's not a bad driver, though. Just reckless.

"I can tell. Takes one to know one, ya' know? If you haven't figured it out, Ash isn't my _gym_ _partner_. He's my boyfriend," Castiel tells Dean as the wind ripples through his hair. The car smells faintly of weed, and Dean blinks, unsure how to respond. Castiel gives Dean's knee a light smack and he grins like some kind of crazy speed demon, taking a big deep breath of the country air. "Put on what you want," he instructs.

Dean flips through some channels until he stops on his preferred station. He grins when he hears the song that's playing, and Castiel seems to bounce in his seat.

"AC/DC is my favorite band, like, _ever_. I mean besides Big  & Rich!" he exclaims, a little southern twang coming out in his excitement. He bumps Dean's hand away from the radio dials and cranks it up as loud as it will go. Dean shakes his head with a laugh watching Castiel bang his hands on the steering wheel to the song. Dean's not used to someone liking the same music as him. Sam likes all the new, popular music on the radio and anyone he's dated hasn't really been interested in classic rock either. Dean's excited about it.

"Mine too! Hey, where are we going?!" Dean asks, having to basically yell over the radio. Castiel looks so happy. Dean doesn't really care where they go.

Castiel reaches down between his feet and flashes a big bottle of Jose Cuervo at Dean. Dean raises his eyebrows at Castiel.

"Crrrrazy!" Castiel says, looking like the Cheshire Cat.

"Dammit, Castiel. I didn't expect you to be a drinker...no less a tequila drinker," Dean shouts in amused disbelief. Castiel starts pushing on the brake, still smirking wildly. He tosses the bottle at Dean and the tires screech as he makes a sharp turn, knocking inertia Dean against the door a little. They're driving on a dirt road now, one that splits two corn fields. They both jostle as the truck rolls on the uneven road.

"First of all, I'm _Cas_. Second of all, _I'm not what you expect_ ," Castiel says playfully, stopping abruptly and putting the truck in park right in the middle of all the corn stalks. It kind of looks like the setting of _Jeepers_ _Creepers_.  Cas swings his door open and gracefully jumps down to the ground, running around to the front of the truck and using the buck antlers on the hood as a boost to help himself up onto the hood, and then he waves to Dean through the windshield. Dean's still sitting in the truck. He chuckles and shakes his head. Castiel is such a handful. Dean can't even _believe_ it. He wants to kiss him _so_ bad. This is the same Castiel who'd been smoking a joint and riding shotgun last week in this same truck, looking so good, without a care in the world. Dean gets that vibe from him again in this moment.

"Bring that tequila up here!" Cas tells Dean with a dopey grin, pulling himself up onto the roof of the truck. Dean carefully gets out of the truck. Now he tunes in and looks around. The crickets are loud, chirping without relent. Dean takes a deep breath and hands the bottle up to Cas, who takes a tiny shot glass from his pocket and settles cross-legged on the roof. The moon is so bright, it almost seems like daytime. Some corn stalks rustle and Dean sees a bird fly away frantically. It's quiet and the corn puts a sweet, earthy musk in the air.  
Not without trouble, Dean gets onto the hood of the truck, and then recruits Cas's help in pulling him over the windshield onto the roof with him. Castiel looks small, but he's not weak. His muscles are still defined in his bare arms. Dean copies Cas's sitting position and is immediately passed the shot glass brimming with the amber tequila.  
"So...drink up and tell me about Texas," Castiel demands, a smile playing at his lips.  
Dean throws the glass back and makes a scrunchy face at the taste. He's never been a tequila person. But it'll take the edge off. Maybe then he'll be able to talk to Cas--hell, _look at Cas_ \--without breaking a sweat and fumbling his words. Aren't teenagers supposed to be the awkward ones?

"Well, there isn't much to tell, to be honest. I lived there my whole life. We moved here because...my dad passed away last September," Dean says with a shrug. Cas is already pouring himself another shot and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. He offers one to Dean, who wordlessly declines.  
"I'm sorry," Castiel says, getting really serious. He scoots closer to Dean so that their knees are touching.  
"It's fine. His liver gave out. It wasn't anybody's fault but his own," Dean states, trying to convince himself and Cas at the same time. Castiel turns his head to divert the smoke he blows out from between his lips. Dean wets his lips with his tongue and watches Cas take his second shot. The kid is not new to vices, apparently. Dean remembers what Sam told him about Castiel wanting people to forget who's son he was--and he sure does a good job of it. Dean would never guess.

"Oh. _Alcohol_. Listen, you don't have to drink if you don't wanna," Castiel tells Dean, placing his hand on Dean's arm. His fingers are long and spindly but warm.  
"I could use a little, actually. But I know better. I can handle my alcohol," Dean explains. He's grateful that Cas is sensitive about it, though, especially after Dean's little chat with his mother earlier.  
"My oldest brother, Luke, died three years ago. He was a senior in high school," Castiel says suddenly. He carefully fills the shot glass for Dean. It occurs to Dean that this is binge drinking.  
"What happened?" Dean asks, his eyes tracing Cas's face and the mark he'd noticed in the car that's so obviously a busted bruise. It's reddish purple.  
"He drove his car head-on into a tractor trailer," Cas responds flatly. He sounded ambiguous. Dean isn't sure if he is nonchalant about it or numb.  
"My father's had me on a tight leash ever since. He thinks he's gonna save my soul from damnation by making me go to church every other day. He doesn't understand me. The more he holds me back, the more I want to resist," Cas says bluntly.  
Dean nods. He isn't sure what he's supposed to say about that. Cas _is_ a bit of a troublemaker. He can understand why the reverend would want to water him down a little bit. At the same time, Dean gets it. When his own father drank every night, he was never home. He ran around with girls and hung out in parking lots. He guessed there was just more room for trouble out in the open spaces of small-town Kansas.

Instead of replying, Dean washes down another shot and asks quietly, "Is that mark on your face from earlier? At the garage?"  
Castiel flinches a little and laughs bitterly. "No. About an hour ago when I told Ash I was taking his keys so he couldn't drive anywhere drunk."

Cas lifts his hands up to his face to gingerly run his fingertips over his cheekbone. Dean reaches between them and cups Cas's face, giving a closer look at the mark. It looks like it was painful. Castiel shuts his eyes, inhaling sharply, and touches Dean's wrist.

Dean is quiet, feeling a rock form in his gut. He sets the glass down on the roof between their folded legs and after a few beats, mutters, "He's no good for ya, Cas," Dean is sincere in his words, tilting his head a little. Castiel looks like an angel. He's such a free spirit. A firecracker, sure, but he's _harmless_. Dean can't imagine anyone wanting to lay a hand on him the way Ash had.

Castiel sighs and takes one more drag off of his cigarette, then puts it out on the metal roof before flicking it away. Dean wonders if it's Ash's fault Cas takes his liquor and nicotine so easily.

"I don't know how to quit him. That's why I'm _with you right now_ , I guess. _Are you good for me_?" he asks in a small, unsure, voice.

Dean pulls his hand away and blows air out of his nose. It smells like dirt and cigarettes and a little bit of sweat, and the tequila is still raking at his throat.

"He's ashamed of you. Of himself. I'm not. You kind of make me crazy," Dean says, the alcohol turning to liquid courage. It's only Dean, Castiel, and a whole lot of corn out here, anyway.

Cas stretches his legs out and moves closer to the back of the truck's roof, swinging his legs over the edge and sliding down into the truck bed. The truck quivers a little under the movement of his weight. He gestures for Dean to follow him down into the truck's flatbed, and Dean does. The tequila forgotten, Castiel opens the back window and retrieves a blanket from the truck's cab, then he throws it down in the bed.

"Come on. I wanna look at the sky," Cas says invitingly, slightly hoarse though Dean isn't sure why. He settles on the blanket and pulls Dean by the hand, so Dean settles too. Then Cas lays on his back and folds his arms behind his head. Dean leans back beside Cas, and they're close enough that their arms are touching. Cas's body is so warm, Dean feels the heat coming off of him in waves. He must be feeling a _little_ drunk by _now_. They lie there in silence for a few minutes. The stars are bright because the sky is clear and there's no city lights to pollute them. Dean feels Castiel's arm move, and then those long fingers are curling around Dean's hand. Dean threads his with Cas's and sighs deeply.

"Yanno we can't drive back like this, Cas," Dean whispers.  
"We don't have to," Cas offers.  
"Won't your dad be pissed?"

Cas turns on his side to face Dean, bending his arm with the hand clasped with Dean's hand between their chests. "As long as I get back in by six A.M., he won't even know. Besides, _I don't care_ if he does,"  
"I don't want you to be in any trouble," Dean murmurs. Castiel slides closer to Dean, but Dean is still flat on his back. Cas's mouth is right next to Dan's ear. His breath is hot, and Dean suddenly feels sticky. It's humid.  
" _I am_ trouble," he murmurs in return, and puts his lips on Dean's ear.

Dean's whole body seizes up. Cas kisses the shell of Dean's ear and sucks on his earlobe, then gives his neck a testing kiss. It makes Dean's stomach quiver.  
" _Cas_ , stop. What about Ash?" Dean says, propping himself up on an elbow. Castiel sits up and fits his knee in between Dean's legs, straddling his leg. He hover's over Dean's torso, one hand on his diaphragm.  
"It doesn't matter. You said I make you crazy. What does _that_ mean?" Cas exhales, the black sky and stars framing his head. His eyes are sparkling at Dean again and his breath smells like alcohol. Dean lays a hand on Castiel's hip. He knows in his very bones he wants nothing more than to give in and fuck Castiel, feel their skin pressed together, until they're both gasping and spent. But even buzzed, Dean knows he isn't going to. Not yet, anyway. Cas moves his knee, grinding it against Dean's crotch. Dean squirms and sighs.  
"It means I really like you. I don't want to fuck this up. And as much as I hate Ash, you're his boyfriend," Dean says flatly.

Cas freezes, then sits up straight. He gets to his feet, and Dean feels the truck's suspension bounce a little. Dean wants to see what Castiel is doing, so he's laying propped up on both elbows now. Cas takes a sip from the bottle of Jose and then shoves it back onto the roof again. He flops back down, this time opposite Dean and cross-legged again.  
"I'm _not_ Ash's boyfriend--I'm not _Ash's_ \-- _I'm not anybody's anything_. I fuck who I please and I ride with who I please, and Ash just uses me for _sex_. He won't kiss me in public! _You_ know that! He gets wasted because he's insecure--he calls me a fag, but he's a fag, too! _Christ_ , am I not good enough for you or something?!" Castiel snaps, visibly pissed off. He pulls out another cigarette and lights it. After he takes a drag, he spits, "So don't you say that I'm _Ash's_. Because _I don't_ belong to him,"

Dean blinks, shocked by Cas's sudden outburst. He hadn't been expecting to hit such a nerve. He doesn't want Cas to be mad at him.

" _Hell_ , Cas. I'm fuckin' _sorry_. I-I didn't mean to offend you. I was trying to prove I'm not using you. You look so fucking good right now, fucking _perfect_ , really. But we're in a corn _field_ in your--in Ash's fucking _truck_ , drinking booze," Dean points out, flabbergasted.

Cas puffs smoke out of his nostrils and relaxes his tensed shoulders. "You're right. I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry. I thought--I thought going out with you tonight and getting drunk would help me forget about today. I'm sorry for being a dick."

"It's fine," Dean says softly, breathing out a sigh.

They sit in silence until Castiel finishes his cigarette. Then he says, "My father doesn't know I'm gay,"  
" _Okay_ ," Dean says, eyebrows knitting together as Cas moves to lie beside him again, shoulder to shoulder.  
"Every time I threaten to break up with Ash--as if what we have is a _relationship_ \--he says he'll tell my father. Dean, he cannot know. He'll disown me. Homosexuality is a _sin_ to him," Cas gushes, a flicker of fear in his voice.

"Hey, come here," Dean says, curling his body towards Cas, who does the same and tosses an arm over Dean's waist. "Don't worry about Ash. You should leave him if that's what'll make you happy. Especially if he's hurting you. It's not right--it's a downright sin. He's got his own issues, obviously,"

Castiel shakes his head slowly, occupying his hands by playing with Dean's t-shirt. "I can't Dean. Ash is the only reason I'm not getting the shit kicked out of me _every_ damn _day_ at school. I have to stay with him at least until graduation. It's not that far off. I can do it. Ash is the cool guy at school, alright, and nobody bothers us about being gay because they know he'll beat their ass. Before Ash, I got pushed down every single day for who I am," Castiel confesses, fire in his voice.

Dean frowns and cards his fingers through Castiel's hair. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Cas. But you _are_ graduating...pretty soon you can get him out of your hair, hm?" he replies sympathetically.  
Cas nods, but it's not a very confident nod.  
"Listen Cas, if you need anything, you can call me. I'll put my number in your phone. I work a lot, but I promise that whenever I can, I'll be there for you. _Ash is givin' you a hard time,_ call me. _You wanna get picked up from school_ , call me. Got it?" Dean suggests, raising his brows and meeting Cas's eyes. He gives a caress over Cas's unharmed cheek.

"Okay," Castiel concedes. He brightens a little and breathes with a small smile, "Can we make out now?"

Dean grins and swoops in to meet Castiel's bottom lip with an open mouth. He blows warm air from his nose in the space between Cas's own nose and his upper lip. Castiel kisses the _fuck_ out of him. He's fucking _amazing_ , even tasting like a tequila-flavored cigarette. They exchange wet, hot, open mouthed kisses without breaking apart, and Castiel climbs on top of Dean to take control. He kisses Dean so hard that his head is pinned to the bed of the truck. One of Castiel's arms is propping himself up, the other is splayed flat on Dean's ribs. Dean's one hand is loosely wrapped around the back of Cas's neck, and the other one wiggles into Cas's back pocket. Cas opens his mouth for Dean to stick his tongue inside, and Dean's hand moves over Cas's ass while he licks into his mouth.

Castiel breaks away finally, and both of them are out of breath, but he kisses Dean's chin while he catches his breath. Their chests touch as they heave for oxygen.

" _God_...," Dean says for lack of a better response, pushing his hand up under the back of Castiel's t-shirt and abandoning his back pocket. Cas smirks, looking cheeky.  
"You're a _really_ good kisser, Dean Winchester," he says, sounding impressed. Dean stares at Cas's slightly swollen lips and immediately wants to dive back into his mouth. His lips are so soft and his mouth is velvet. Dean could do this for hours, probably.  
"You're-- _You_... _Jesus_ ," Dean says with a breathless laugh. His brain can't string the words together. Castiel drops his hand down to Dean's crotch and rubs his palm over it roughly. Dean's eyes roll back and he squirms, saying, " _Cas_ ,"

"Dean, I want to do this. You're fucking _hard_. I could feel you against my hip when I was kissing you," Cas comments.  
" _I'm really fucking horny, Cas_ , I just--"  
"Don't say it. You're not taking advantage of me. I trust you. Now let me suck your cock, Dean. _Jesus_ ," Cas snickers, but Dean can tell he's serious. Dean is so turned on right now, with the alcohol in his system, his head is swimming.  
"Fuck...," he garbles out, " _yeah_ ,"

Castiel yanks Dean's zipper down and smiles broadly. Then he suddenly stops, a twinkle in his eye. "Wait...I know what this needs,"

Dean's body feels like it's burning up. He needs Cas's plush mouth wrapped around his cock so bad, he aches. But Cas gets up and opens the back window of the truck, reaching through to put the key in the ignition. For a moment, Dean is confused. Castiel starts the truck, and the whole machine buzzes to life. Then he tunes the radio in and _Pour Some Sugar On Me,_ courtesy of Def Leppard, fills their little section of cornfield. Dean palms his own dick through his underwear and huffs. Castiel turns around and giggles. He unbuttons his too-tight denim shorts and wriggles them off of his hips, sliding them down his thighs. Dean thinks he might need to pinch himself. He's afraid he's in a good dream.

"Fucking _hell_ , you're sexy," Dean breathes, shuddering. Cas apparently doesn't believe in underwear. He's a little bit unsteady on his feet, probably from the few shots they'd done, as he tosses his shorts down at Dean and drops down between Dean's legs. Cas's cock is half-hard and pink against his stomach, _so fucking perfect_ , Dean thinks. Cas unbuckles Dean's belt and exhales heavily when he finally gets the elastic of Dean's underwear off of his waist and down around his knees. Dean's cock slaps up against his belly and he feels so exposed next to Cas, who's _fucking gorgeous_ in comparison. The night air is chilly.

"Fuck, Dean... _you have a big cock,_ " Castiel says, voice thick with lust. He bends in half and swallows Dean's entire length in his first go, like he lives for this kind of thing. His body jolts and he gasps. Castiel chuckles, his throat fluttering around Dean's tip. It feels tight and hot and fucking _amazing_. Dean thinks he might actually _die_.

Cas goes right to town, dragging his mouth up and down Dean's cock eagerly, reaching between his own legs to jack himself off. The stretch of his lips looks like a scene out of a porno. It's fucking _unbelievable_ , and every time Cas takes him down to the hilt, Dean shudders hard and squeezes a handful of the blanket they're splayed out on in his fist. He's sucking Dean's cock so sloppy, letting so much spit cover it and his chin. Cas gags a little when Dean's tip bumps the back of his throat, but he controls his reflex and hollows his cheeks. He bobs up, letting Dean's cock slip out of his mouth, and some of his spit dribbles down Dean's length. Castiel is clearly breathless, so Dean grabs at his shirt until he scoots up to sit on Dean's thighs. Dean sits up and kisses the corners of Cas's mouth, batting Cas's hand out of the way to jerk him off. Cas tips his head back, and his throat is exposed. Dean puts open-mouthed kisses all down Cas's neck, nipping his adam's apple. Cas shudders in Dean's lap and it's about the hottest thing Dean's ever witnessed.

Dean spits in his own hand enough to slick Cas up, watching Castiel's mouth go slack and a moan slip out from between his lips involuntarily. Dean plants a few kisses on Cas's jaw and mutters, "You're so fucking gorgeous, _Cas...god_ , you look so good letting me jerk you off...and before with your mouth around _my dick_ ,"

Cas is straddling Dean's thighs, bucking his hips into Dean's hand. He whimpers when Dean moves his hand faster. His skin is hot to the touch, but so is Dean's. Cas is breathing hard, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck.

" _D-Don't stop_ ," Cas whispers in the tiniest voice possible, _fucking wrecked_.  
" _God_ , you have no idea how pretty you are, Cas," Dean says, making Cas squeak when he rubs his thumb over the wet tip of his cock.

Dean reaches under Cas's balls and runs his wet, heated fingertips across Cas's hole, and Cas loses it. He comes in hot, sticky strands over Dean's knuckles, his thighs shuddering through it. Dean can't believe how fast it happens, yet somehow it's almost in slow motion for Dean, who's mentally scapbooking every facial expression Cas makes through his orgasm.

Castiel is gasping, but he moves his shaking legs down and wraps his index finger and thumb tightly around Dean's cock, stroking him languidly and dipping the tip of him between his lips. And it's so fucking hot and obscene that Dean feels that familiar fire building up in his belly. Cas is _seventeen_. Cas is the _reverend's_ son. _Cas_ doesn't give a fuck.  
"Come on, baby, _come for me...come on, right here_ ," Cas coaxes, eyes flickering up to Dean's face. Dean's hips snap up a few times and he lets out a low, guttural moan.  
" _Shit_ ," Cas purrs, taking Dean's cock in his mouth to catch as much of his come as he can manage and milking his tip until Dean is over-sensitized and _babbling_ for him to stop. Cas's chin is shiny and covered in saliva, so he wipes it on his shirt and breathes out a sigh, dropping his chin down to rest on Dean's hip.

Dean takes a minute to resupply his body with oxygen, breathing hard. He can feel the blood rushing in his forehead. He hasn't come that hard in... _well_ , in a long time. Boneless, Dean lifts his lead arm and pets Cas's hair.  
"What did I do to deserve you. _You're...Jesus_ , you're a professional," Dean tells Cas truthfully, making him giggle. Castiel licks his lips and feels around for his shorts, while Dean pulls his pants up, but leaves them unbuttoned.  
"Dean, don't discount yourself. You got me worked up just making out with me, and you have the nicest cock I've seen," Cas mentions, wiggling his shorts back over his ass. Dean's sad to see him cover it up again, but was a nice view.  
"Thanks, but you're a teenager. Math class probably works you up," Dean laughs, and Castiel moves to get out of the truck bed. "Where are you goin'?"  
Cas blinks and replies, "Getting in the truck. Why?"  
"No. I told you you're not driving," Dean said, grabbing Cas's wrist.  
"I'm not drunk. We only had like three shots," Cas points out. Dean shakes his head, and Cas seems to get the picture.

He gets back down on the blanket with Dean, and Dean wraps his arms around Cas's waist.

Cas doesn't protest.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean and Cas had both dozed off in the bed of the truck. 

 

Cas woke with a start, a few rays of sun splicing through the corn stalks and shining on his face. His motion of sitting up rouses Dean. He grumbles, shivering a little. The sun is warm, but there's a breeze. It's early and the dew has settled overnight and cooled everything off. Birds chirp shrilly.

" _Dean_. Dean, wake up. We gotta go," Cas's voice quavers. Dean opens his eyes and rubs the dust out of them.

"Damn, what time is it?" Dean asks groggily. Cas licks his lips and then gives Dean a peck on the lips. He jumps up and climbs out of the truck bed swiftly. Dean got to his feet incredibly slow. He felt like he'd slept on a tin roof.

"It's almost seven. Get in," Cas insists hastily, panic edging in his voice. Dean gets into the passenger side of the truck and everything comes spiraling back to him. Ash's truck. The night. Cas's dad. _Cas's mouth_.

"Shit. You gotta get this truck back and get in your house before your dad has your ass," Dean croaks, but Castiel is already spinning the tires in the dirt.

"It's okay, I doubt Ash is awake. I'm not afraid of my father," Cas says calmly, and Dean isn't sure how he's keeping his cool. Dean notices that his own jeans are still hanging open and he reaches down to do them up. Cas drives fast out of the corn road and onto the main road, where he floors it. 

They didn't talk much on the drive back into the main part of town. But the silence hung without an uncomfortableness.

Cas pulls over at the Texaco station to drop Dean off. He doesn't want to be seen coming from Dean's street, and this way he can get home quicker. Dean reaches for the door handle, but turns back to grin at Cas.

"Can we do this agai--"

Castiel crashes against Dean's mouth with his own, morning breath and all, but Dean doesn't even _care_.  Their teeth accidentally knock together. Castiel's lips are heaven. He kisses Dean goodbye and then gives him a nudge. " _Absolutely_. Now git outta here before one of these hicks calls the national guard on two fags making out _at the Texaco,_ " Cas laughs musically. Dean snickers and jumps down out of the truck, giving a little wave as Cas speeds off.

It's the weekend, so Dean doesn't have work. He plans on going home to continue his interrupted beauty sleep.

 

When Dean wakes up again, he's in his bed. He thinks he can definitely sleep longer, but it's noon. Once he throws some clothes on, all he can think is _Cas, Cas, Cas_. He wonders if Cas got home okay and considers giving him a call. _No_ , _too soon_. He doesn't want to seem obsessive. But _damn_ , he keeps replaying the night in his head, and it seems like it was too long ago. Like grasping at a foggy dream. Dean really needs to shower and  shave, but he saves it for later because he's hungry.

"Well, welcome to the land of the living," Dean's mother taunts when Dean comes into the kitchen in his robe. She's reading the newspaper and drinking iced tea. Dean flashes a smile to show he's amused and opens the fridge. He's utterly _starving_. 

"I heard you come in around seven thirty. Good night?" Mary inquires, looking a little teasing.

"It was...good," Dean replies. His throat is a bit froggy, but he thinks it's from sleeping outside. Dean wants to avoid giving his mother any unnecessary details. _Yeah, mom, I had a jolly good time drinking with a minor, who sucked me off, and who also happens to be the reverend's son Did I mention he gives good head?_   Dean brings out some leftover meatloaf and puts it into  the microwave.

"Was it a girl?" she persists. Dean rolls his eyes, but his back is turned, so his mother doesn't see it. She's been pestering Dean about finding a girlfriend it seems like nonstop. Dean understands she means well, but it can be tiring. Before last night, Dean hadn't been on a date since the months before his father was in the hospital.

"Mom, I'd tell you if it was," Dean retorts flatly.

Mary pretends to go back to reading the newspaper, but after the microwaves _dings_ , she continues her interview. "Do I know them?"

Dean considers going into the living room, but they're still waiting for the rest of their furniture to be delivered and Dean's not up to sit on the floor. Not after sleeping in a hard, flat, truck bed. So he decides to come clean.

"You know the Reverend Novak? Me and his son hung out for a little bit...w-with his brothers, you know. I had a few beers and crashed on their couch til I could walk home today," Dean lies. Well, it wasn't _completely_ untrue.

"Well, that's going to prove a little messy," Mary muses. Dean raises an eyebrow at her, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

"Why?"

"Well, you're a good boy, Dean, but does Reverend Novak know you took his son out? Castiel is still in high school, afterall, and they're a _very_ Christian family, probably don't _believe_ _in_ \--"

"Whoa, Mom, let me stop you right there...uh, I didn't take Cas ' _out_ '," Dean stammers, stabbing at his Tupperware meatloaf. His face is burning. 

"I'm not blind, Dean. You've had an open crush on David Bowie since you were ten. And my brain works--Castiel is _gayer_ than a songbird. The other day he was looking at you like you were Adam himself, straight from the garden of Eden. I'm sure it's not easy for him, the poor sweetie. Will you go out with him again?" Mary says, stunning Dean to the core. Dean's so shocked, his body feels like a cable being pulled tight. He figured his mother knew he's bisexual, but Dean never called her knowing about Cas. Dean sighs. He almost feels guilty that his mother is so accepting while Castiel's father is so close-minded. 

"Mom, you can't tell anybody, okay? Reverend Novak has no idea about Cas, and Cas wants to keep it that way. It's complicated right now," Dean gripes, shoving a forkful of meatloaf into his mouth. Mary is smiling all bright and happy, probably elated at the prospect of another potential mouth to feed. Dean knows his mother loves to have friends over for dinner.

"My lips are sealed! What about Ellen? Can I tell her?" she gushes, trying to tone her excitement down. Dean doesn't want to dampen her spirits, but he plans on covering for Cas.

"No! Not even Ellen, Mom. I'm serious," Dean scolds.

"Alright, alright. Just promise me you'll have him over?"

"Yeah, we'll see," 

 

 

Dean doesn't see or hear from Castiel until Monday, after Castiel gets out of school and comes to see Dean at the garage. He's on foot, which means he's not riding with Ash. Part of Dean hopes they've broken up for good, but he knows that isn't the case.

Dean's covered in grease lying on a dolly under a black Sedan when he hears Cas call his name and rolls out from underneath the car.

"Hey sunshine. What's up?" he asks with a grin. There's oil on his nose and forehead. Castiel returns the smile and leans against the garage door.

"Can you give me an inspection for free, Mr. Mechanic? I'm a little short on cash," Castiel asks playfully, folding his arms across his chest. Dean hauls himself to his feet, wiping his hands on his blue work uniform. He strides over to Cas and pecks his cheek. There's no one really around, except for Bobby, but he's in the back doing inventory on parts.

"Everything looks _good_ to me," Dean plays along, waggling his eyebrows as he gives Cas's ass a gentle squeeze. Castiel jumps and giggles, giving Dean a shove backwards.

"You're a ham. I hate you," Cas says, devoid of any real hostility. Dean brings him in for a hug, and Cas stands on his toes to fit his chin in the crook of Dean's shoulder. 

"I know," Dean snickers in return, "so how come you didn't call me all weekend, huh? You didn't catch anything, did'ya?" 

Cas shakes his head. Dean gives Cas the once over and sees no new bruises. However, the old one on his cheek bone is looking a little better. It's only slightly black and blue. "Sorry. Grounded. I told Ash I have the flu so I could get a few days off,"

"Oh yeah? And What about Daddy dearest?" Dean asks and holds his breath.

"I had to copy bible verses. Nothing new. I told him that I'd gone to a late movie," Cas reported.

"Good boy. But I got a question for ya. What would you say if I asked you to come over for dinner tonight?" Dean inquires, a hopeful look in his eyes. Cas looks surprised.

"Your mom knows I have a _dick_ , right?" he laughs. Dean is a little jilted, thinking Cas might decline, but he smiles and laughs, too.

"Yeah, she knows. I already told her about you and she promised not to tell your dad, or anybody. So, do you wanna? My mom makes _amazing_ spaghetti. We're not really unpacked, but...,"

"Are you kidding me? Yeah I will. I was going to ask you if you wanted to do something later anyway," Cas replies, rolling forward on the balls of his feet and bouncing a little. Dean beams.

"Great. Say, seven? Just wear whatever. You don't have to dress like church," Dean tells him. Cas looks a little red in the face at that. " _What_?" Dean muses.

"Just--no one's ever invited me over for dinner before. And _God_ _knows_ Ash doesn't come to my house. My father would put him in the bath tub and wash him with holy water," Cas laughs lightly, and Dean is pleased at the ease that washes over him.

"I think _you're_ the one who needs a bath in holy water, dirty birdy," Dean teases, earning him another shove.

"You love it. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll," Cas says, sticking his tongue out.

 

Dean feels like his shift drags on. All he wants to do is go home and have dinner with Cas and his mother and Sammy.

When it's finally over, he declines his usual beer with Bobby in favor of going home for a shower before Cas gets here. As he comes through the door, he says, "Mom, Cas is gonna be over to eat with us, okay?"

"That's fine. I'll just put on more spaghetti," she calls, and Dean knows she's pleased by the tone in her voice.

 

It's seven thirty, and Cas still hasn't shown. Dean had tried to call him to see if he might need a ride, but there was no answer. His mother and Sam sat at the set table with him, just looking at him and feeling sorry. It was looking more and more like Cas wasn't coming. Dean felt stupid and embarrassed. He'd showered and brushed his hair and even had aftershave on. He didn't understand. He should have known Cas wouldn't want to come over Dean's just to have dinner and what? Meet his mother? It was lame, at best, and Dean stared at his hands which were folded on the tabletop.

"Well, Dean, do you think I can eat? I know Cas isn't here yet...but...I'm kind of starving, man," Sam tries, trying to be sensitive about it. Dean frowns and stands up.

"Something isn't right. You guys go ahead and eat. I'm gonna ride over to Cas's to check on him," Dean informs them.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" Mary asks, frowning and starting to stand herself. Dean knows it's stupid. Dean knows Cas just bailed on him. _Why wouldn't he?_

"Yeah. He said he'd come," Dean replies, putting his arms into his jacket sleeves anyway. 

He doesn't want to be wrong.

 

Dean drives across town to where he knows Ash lives, courtesy of Bobby Singer. He'd called him on the way out the door to ask, and Bobby told him not to do anything stupid, but Dean didn't make any promises. 

His Impala screeches to a stop in front of Ash's half of the dilapidated double-block house on the end of a dark street, right next to the railroad tracks. Dean is already unsure what he'll say to the guy. But he's not afraid to confront this asshole. Especially where Cas his concerned. He walks straight up to the front door and knocks hard. His heart is already pounding nervously in his throat.

A few moments pass, and then a face appears in the window, moving the blinds aside. It's Ash and he looks sour.

A few locks slide and click, and then the door is opening with a loud creak. Ash is holding a bottle of beer. "What'dyou want, Winchester?" he hisses, looking like some kind of a hillbilly vampire.

"Is Cas here? Have you talked to him?" Dean demands.

"What do you care for?" Ash questions defensively.

"Where's Castiel, you fucking scumbag?! Huh?!" Dean shouts this time, pounding his fist on Ash's screen door.

"Yo, I'll call the cops on you, asshole!" Ash exclaims, unimpressed with Dean's attitude, obviously.

"I'm going to break your stupid-looking face if you don't start givin' me answers, you hear?" Dean booms. He's pulsing with anger. 

"He left," Ash states simply, and Dean glares darkly at him before spinning around and knocking over a wooden chair on Ash's porch in his wrath. Dean strides back to his car and gets in. Part of him felt like driving the damn thing through Ash's house.

Instead, he pulls away and starts driving in the direction he knows Castiel lives. Part of Dean wonders if Ash is lying. Maybe Cas is at home, and maybe he had no plans to come to Dean's in the first place. Maybe he'd chosen Ash instead.

He's on a darker park of the road when he speeds by someone walking. That's when his brakes squeal and he backs his car up fifty feet or so, and stops.

"Dean?!" a voice says, astonished. Dean gets out of his car hastily, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

"Cas! Are you okay?" he asks frantically, holding him by his shoulders. Overhead, it thunders menacingly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cas says, tired and unconvincing. When he gets in the car, Dean pulls over and puts his four-ways on. 

Lightning flashes, lighting up the car, and Dean see's that Cas's eye is blackened and there's dried blood under his nose. Dean's rage bubbles up inside of him. "I'll kill him," he says, taking Cas's face gingerly in his hands. Cas looks alarmed.

"Dean, no. No, _don't_ \--he'll tell my father about me. _Please_ ," Cas pleads, his eyes glassy. Dean's never seen Cas-- _fiesty, confident, carefree_ Cas--look this afraid.

"You can't go home this way. What will you tell your dad? What were you thinking, walking alone? How could Ash just-just let you walk home?" Dean vents angrily.

"He picked me up saying he wanted to talk. W-When we got to his house, he got drunk. He said he knew I lied about being sick over the weekend, and that I'd been in school today. Someone must have told him. He knocked me down, hit me in the face a few times...but I left. I _had_ to walk home, I had no other choice. I couldn't some over to your house and sit at your dinner table with your _mom_ looking this way. I didn't want to embarrass you..." Cas sniffles.

"Jesus, Cas, you sure could have! Do you know how many times I walked into my house with a busted face? Come on, I'm taking you to my house to fix you up," Dean says, shaking with adrenaline. He got the car back onto the road and does a U-turn, driving back towards his street. Rain pours down on the windshield faster than the wipers can push it away.

"I'm sorry, Dean. You didn't have to come looking for me. I can take care of myself," Cas mutters, wiping his nose.

"No, Cas--you don't understand. Ash is a drunk--trust me, I know one when I see one. You need to stay away from him. You have to stop going with him. If he tells your dad, that's that. That's life. He's gonna find out eventually, Cas. I know you're only seventeen, but you've gotta realize that what Ash is doing to you is no better than what people in school will say or do, and if your father can't accept you, then he's not a very good father," Dean says.

"He could kick me out of my house, Dean. And then what?" Cas croaks.

Dean glances from Cas to the road. "I'm getting my own place once I save enough from working with Bobby. You're graduating. Okay? Even if w-we don't work out, you can still stay with me,"

Cas is quiet. The rain fills the silence with no problem, and thunder claps again. Dean is silently grateful he picked Cas up when he did. It looks bad outside.

"You really mean that?" Cas questions in disbelief.

"Yes. I can't let you go through this anymore. You don't deserve it," Dean asserts. When they pull up in front of Dean's house, they sit in the car with the engine turned off.

"Thank you," Cas responds quietly. Dean squeezes Cas's hand, and then gets out. He jogs around to get Cas out of the car and they both hurry up to the house to avoid getting any wetter in the rain.

"Dean?" Mary calls as soon as Dean opens the door. 

"Yeah, it's me," he replies quickly. Mary takes one look at Cas and turns white. Castiel looks down at his feet.

"Oh, are you alright, sweetie?" she frets, pushing Dean aside and tilting Cas's head up by the chin. Dean can feel her mom-sensors going off, like the time when Sam fell out of their old tree house back in Dallas and broke his arm.

Dean goes to the freezer and grabs a bag of frozen peas to hand to Castiel for the bump on his forehead. Mary pulls Castiel into the kitchen, which is filled with the aroma of tomato and basil, to clean his face up. 

"Should I even ask?" Mary mutters to Castiel when Dean is distracted by filling a plate of spaghetti for Cas.

Cas smiles feebly and shakes his head. "Now I know where Dean gets it from,"

"What?" Mary asked, tilting her head and helping Cas hold the ice pack/bag of peas.

"Caring so much," Cas remarks. Mary smiles at him and pats his cheek gently. She blushes just a little and shushes him.

"Good thing you boys got back so quickly. I would have been worried with Dean driving in this weather any longer," Mary tells Cas, so absorbed in doting on him she barely notices Dean when he clears his throat.

 

With his nose and eye all cleaned up, Castiel sits down to eat with Dean, and Mary leaves them alone in the kitchen. Dean shovels his spaghetti in his mouth, clearly ravenously hungry. Castiel is too, though he eats a little more reservedly. Dean didn't even know Cas had posessed that trait.

Dean and Cas exchange small glances while they eat, and it's only awkward when they catch each other looking and say nothing. Once they both finish eating, and Cas is pushing his fork around and empty plate, Dean reaches across the table and takes Cas's hand.

"Don't tell your dad til you're ready. But promise me you won't go out with Ash anymore?" Dean asks pleadingly.

"Okay. I guess Anna could give me rides home from school some days so that Ash won't try to pick me up," Cas rubs his thumb across Dean's knuckles.

"If you can't do that, walk with my little brother, Sammy. He's tough. I'll tell him what's up and he'll make sure Ash won't bother you," Dean tells Cas seriously.

"You don't have to do that, Dean,"

"No, I do. If not for yourself, for my piece of mind," Dean insists. Mary enters the kitchen again.

"Do you boys want to play Scrabble with me and Sammy?" she asks, a smile creeping up in her voice. Dean shrugs, but Cas turns around and nods.

"Sure,"

Mary takes Dean and Cas's plates, and puts them in the sink. Dean offers to do the dishes from dinner while they get the game set up. He's alone in the kitchen then, and he wracks his brain for ways to fix Cas's situation, but it's not coming to him. All he knows for sure is that he really, really likes Castiel, and he'll do anything to help.

 

They play Scrabble, and Sam wins by a long shot. But they're all starting to yawn, and Sam and Cas have school in the morning, so Dean drives Castiel home around nine. It's not raining anymore.

"Don't forget to call me when you get out of school, okay?" he says, reluctant to let go of Castiel's hand in the car. Cas nods and leans in to hug Dean. Dean holds him against his chest and kisses his temple.

"Okay. Dean? Thanks again," Cas says, pulling away from Dean and smiling a little.

"It's nothing. Go get some sleep so you can pass your classes," Dean instructs, flashing Cas one more smile as he gets out of the car.


End file.
